Life Short. The Italy Cup

I was looking for a specific book, on my non-specific book shelves,
and decided it was time for a break before I threw something.
I made myself an espresso, with one sugar and a tad of milk,
using one of the the hand painted cups I bought in Italy, easily about 20 years ago.
I could see the the shop so clearly,  the length of it, the shelves on the left where the cup was. (I bought three, why not 4? It’s a mystery.)
Life is filled with mysteries. I still haven’t found the book.